


Control

by lezzerlee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Blood, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Dom/sub, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Massage, inadequate kink negotiation, surprise bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:58:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lezzerlee/pseuds/lezzerlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They like to test each other’s boundaries. But when Stiles has Derek chained up in a train car, it’s all Derek can do to keep from wolfing out from bad memories and the fact that Stiles <em>will not let him come.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> There are mentions of blood in this fic, but there is no bloodplay or blood used as the kink.
> 
> Thanks so much to [recrudescence](http://archiveofourown.org/users/recrudescence/pseuds/recrudescence) for the beta. <3

Cleaning out the train car was more effort than he thought it was going to be. Over time Derek had stashed more and more of his supplies in it, avoiding the burned-out husk of his family’s house when the Alphas made themselves known. It was a long and bitter fight, but his pack had prevailed, had proven itself strong enough to make the Alphas back off. But with new hunters crawling around due to heightened supernatural activity, he needed to find new hiding spots.  
  
Derek smelled Stiles before he saw him, heard the steady beat of his heart, the reassuring rhythm that he’d become used to over the last year. He paused as he heard the clinking of metal against metal and knew that Stiles was sifting through the trunk of chains and restraints.  
  
Readying himself for some uncomfortable questions, Derek climbed up the steps and into the door of the train car. Stiles’ back was facing him, clad in that infuriating red hoodie that had Derek breathing heavy with the instinct to hunt. He stopped to let Stiles’ smell wash over him and settle into his lungs.  
  
“Why do you even have these?” Stiles said without turning around. He was holding a pair of metal cuffs in his hands, turning them over to look at the closures. Derek didn’t know how Stiles had become so attuned to knowing that he wasn’t alone in a room anymore, but he was not going to question a developing survival instinct.  
  
“It’s for wolves who can’t control themselves yet,” Derek replied simply.  
  
Stiles looked over his shoulder, his face pinched in a combination of confusion and slight disgust. “What, like kids? I don’t want to know what werewolf family dynamics are like if they have to chain up their children.”  
  
Derek bristled at the mention of family but didn’t miss the little blip of the lie in Stiles’ pulse. Of course Stiles would be interested; Stiles was interested in everything. Stiles picked up the head brace Derek had used on Erica on her first full moon, cocking his head back at an awkward angle that distorted his neck as he eyed the contraption warily. He dropped it back in the box and pulled out another pair of cuffs.  
  
“Do these hold?” he asked.  
  
Derek didn’t say anything. Stiles knew the answer to that. They’d had the conversation about Stiles trying to restrain Scott before. He thought about Boyd breaking free on that first moon, the fear of having to fight his own wolves, to hurt them to keep them from hurting others. He walked farther inside of the train car, kicking a pile of chains with his the toe of his shoe as he came to stand before Stiles.  
  
“Would they hold you?” Stiles continued, unswayed by Derek’s silence and swallowing hard as Derek strayed into his personal space.  
  
 _Not without electricity_ , Derek thought, but his mind shuddered away from the thought, memories of Kate and her confession, of the chasm that ripped wider inside his soul. Derek took the cuff from Stiles’ hands. He could smell the spark of arousal that came every time he got too close. It made the Alpha wolf want to dominate. The infuriating flutter of Stiles’ heartbeat screamed at Derek to _take him. Take him. He wants it._  
  
He kept forgetting how new everything was to Stiles, how underdeveloped their relationship really was though they’d both been testing each other’s limits for months now. Derek wasn’t quite sure how they got to this point but he remembered the way their first kiss had ignited something inside him, an emotion he thought was long dead.  
  
Stiles fingered the edge of the cuff and it fell open in Derek’s hands. “You haven’t answered my question,” Stiles whispered.  
  
“No,” he said. “They only work if the wolves are trying to control themselves, or if someone is there to control them.” He saw Stiles swallow, the dip and bob of his Adam’s apple that made Derek want to lick up the column of his neck, worry at the tendon with his teeth and mark him for the world to see. Instead, he leaned down to kiss. He only had an inch on Stiles, but he used the rest of his size to his advantage, to make Stiles give into him and press against his body greedily.  
  
Stiles opened his mouth, soft lips parted perfectly to let Derek slip his tongue inside. He could never get tired of this, the enthusiasm Stiles had for every single touch, the way Stiles clung to him, demanded more from him with fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt. This was something Derek could give. Stiles gave so much in return.  
  
They were both new at this because Kate could never be considered a good first, and Derek was _actually_  Stiles’ first. They both trusted each other in a virginal way that stretched both of their boundaries to the breaking point.  
  
He was so distracted with kissing Stiles that he didn’t notice the metal being slipped around his wrist until the clasp snapped shut. His body went rigid instantaneously and he could feel the points of his fangs breaking his gums, the ache in his nail beds as he struggled to control his shift. His mind screamed _No!_  and _Not again!_  
  
Stiles didn’t move away even though Derek could easily rip his throat out, could claw his chest open and rip through to the heart in an instant. Derek took back what he said about not questioning the evidence—or lack thereof— of Stiles’ survival instincts. He could feel the growl building deep in his chest.  
  
“Is this okay?” Stiles asked, his thumb circling over the veins of Derek’s wrist, just above the cuff.  He couldn’t have missed the uncontrolled shift, but he still looked earnest, twisting his lips to the side nervously. Derek’s furious gaze slowly drifted up to Stiles’ eyes as he struggled to control his breathing.  
  
Derek had to remind himself that there was no open electricity here, no wires, no generators. There were only the green-tinted lights of the train. And this was Stiles. This was Stiles and not an Argent—not Kate.  
  
His fangs still pressed at his gums, but the urge to fight and to kill slowly drained from him as he breathed in and out steadily, focusing on Stiles’ gentle touch.  
  
Could this be okay? Derek asked himself.  
  
He thought about how vulnerable he would be. But he reasoned that he could still break the chains if he needed. He wondered if it would be a good way to test himself now that he was the Alpha. He hadn’t really been lapsing, but he had felt how quick to anger he’d become, how the power felt like it was going to burst out of him at times. His control hadn’t slipped … yet.  
  
He nodded and Stiles’ expression brightened. He gritted his teeth together in a congratulatory smile with a muttered, “Yes!” under his breath. Realizing an instant later that Derek could hear it, Stiles quickly sobered.  
  
“All right,” he started. “Ground rules. We need ground rules, like safewords or a signal or something. And boundaries, things you don’t like or don’t want to happen. Or a list of things you do want. I can …”  
  
“Stiles.” Derek glowered. Stiles snapped his mouth shut.  
  
“Right. Right, we can just, uh, let things play out? Go by feel?”  
  
Derek nodded and Stiles grinned again, his body thrumming with excitement that Derek felt in waves. He hadn’t lost that scent of arousal and Derek knew that a hundred debaucherous thoughts were flitting through his brain like a flock of hummingbirds.  
  
Stiles’ giddiness helped Derek shake off the lingering fear. He was almost amused as Stiles pulled the chain attached to the cuff upwards and wrapped it over the bar of the train. Stiles frowned, hesitating at securing the rest of it. Derek tensed again, thinking that something was already putting Stiles off the idea.  
  
“Your shirt,” Stiles said as if he picked up on Derek’s trepidation. “Your shirt needs to come off first.”  
  
Of course Stiles was thinking of logistics. Stiles probably had a plan. Derek knew he was fully capable of being dedicated to a task that caught his interest.  
  
Derek watched as Stiles pulled at the hem of his t-shirt, running his hands underneath the edge, untucking his tank and rubbing his fingertips over Derek’s skin. Derek didn’t move to grab Stiles like he usually would, to paw over Stiles’ body possessively. Stiles pulled both shirts up and over Derek’s head, then pulled the chain down to let the shirt fall over it to the ground. He wrapped the chain around the bar again until it was taut and Derek couldn’t pull his wrist away.  
  
Stiles waited for Derek to give a quick nod to continue before securing the other cuff. Derek tested the bonds, seeing how far he could stretch his body out towards Stiles. Stiles had to back across the entire aisle to escape the reach of his teeth.  
  
Derek’s heart was already pumping faster. Being chained up went against every instinct he had. But he’d do this for Stiles, for himself, to see if he could stand it. He’d do this to see if he could dull the memories of pain and loss and betrayal.  
  
Stiles stepped forward and wrapped one hand around the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him forward into another kiss. His other hand moved up Derek’s side, fanning out over his ribs as Stiles darted his tongue along Derek’s teeth. Stiles smelled like soda and gum. He smelled like gun oil and whatever herbs Deaton had him working with. He smelled like Scott and Isaac and the rest of the pack.  
  
He smelled like home.  
  
When Stiles pulled away, Derek chased the kiss until the chains clinked against the bar and the cuffs pulled at his wrists. He couldn’t help the frustrated, hurt little sound that escaped his throat.  
  
Bending down to the trunk, Stiles began to dig through it more until he came out with another set of cuffs. Then, unexpectedly, Stiles went to his backpack. Derek tried to lean, to see around Stiles as he dug through his bag, but he couldn’t. His terror spiked again. He didn’t know what Stiles had in there and any number of terrible devices popped into his head. He could feel the shift coming on again, the pressure, the twitch of bones shifting and expanding, ready to break free of the chains.  
  
But when Stiles turned around, he was holding something small. It didn’t smell mechanical or electrical. Stiles’ scent hadn’t shifted to anything dangerous, other than nervous tension and sexual desire. But Derek was wary anyway.  
  
“What is that?” Derek asked, trying very hard to keep his voice even.  
  
“I got this. We don’t have to use it, but—” Stiles swallowed and Derek looked down to where Stiles was holding what appeared to be a rubber ball threaded on nylon rope. “I wanted to try some stuff and I thought it would be fun. Or useful. Or… we don’t have to, right now. Or ever, if you don’t want to.”  
  
Derek felt his brows knit together, the angry look he couldn’t control when he was confused settling over his face. He was lucky that Stiles could tell the difference by now, that they had gotten to know all of each other’s subtle (or not so subtle in Stiles’ case) expressions.  
  
“It’s um … here.” Stiles unfurled the pile in his hand, holding out what Derek now recognized as a gag before holding it up to his own face and biting over the rubber ball. A sharpness like a knife stabbed through Derek’s lust at seeing Stiles with the gag in his mouth, at the thought of silencing Stiles’ babbling mouth so that all he could do was whine and gasp under Derek’s hands. He wanted to hold Stiles down, fuck him into a mattress with only strangled noises and Stiles’ expressive face to tell him what was right, what felt good.  
  
But he was the one pinned now.  
  
Stiles popped the ball out of his mouth, holding it outstretched between his two hands. “You know, for your teeth,” he said quietly, obviously expecting rejection. Derek could see the red flush of embarrassment fill his cheeks but Stiles didn’t look away.  
  
Derek bit his own lip in indecision before letting his mouth hang open, feeling ridiculous as he waited for Stiles to put the gag in. Every time Stiles’ face brightened, every time Stiles got what he wanted, a little part of Derek sang with joy. His canine urge to please didn’t disappear when he became the Alpha. Sometimes he wished it did.  
  
Just before Stiles put the ball into his mouth, Derek’s brain came back online. He realized that Stiles had been carrying the gag around. The restraints box had been closed, set in a corner, not even ready to move yet. He hadn’t put it together before but now he could see it clearly.  
  
“You planned this,” Derek said, and it wasn’t a question.  
  
Stiles’ smile was lopsided and not at all ashamed. “I may have snooped around a little before.”  
  
Derek snorted a sarcastic little huff but couldn’t suppress an amused smile that Stiles returned with one of his own, softer and wider. He licked his lips once before leaning in to kiss Derek, but quickly pulled away.  
  
“Open,” he commanded and Derek obeyed. The ball felt large. It hinged his jaw open wide enough that he knew it would ache soon. The rubber was dense, but not too hard. Derek could squash it easily with a strong bite, but that was not the point. He bit down on it experimentally, feeling the give and how the surface molded around his blunt teeth.  
  
Stiles attached the nylon around his head, buckling it into place and tugging it forward to make sure it wouldn’t pop out on its own. “Feel all right?” he asked.  
  
Derek nodded and made an affirmative sound through his nose. He realized he was basically strapped into a glorified chew toy, but the humiliation of that line of thought disappeared when Stiles traced his thumbs over the corners of Derek’s mouth, cupping the undersides of his jaw tenderly.  
  
Stiles looked at Derek like he wanted to eat him, like he was the wolf and Derek was the prey. His eyes were dilated just enough that Derek could tell, though a human probably wouldn’t notice. The tension in the room had spiked. Suddenly Stiles had shed his awkward aura, the goofball presence he hid his sharp wit behind.  
  
Stiles was full of strength and confidence, was focused, and Derek felt naked before him, though he still had his pants on. He felt vulnerable in a way he’d never experienced before. He wasn’t afraid for his life but he was terrified of his own lust, of how good it felt to submit, how much he wanted to give to Stiles: everything he had, everything that he could.  
  
He held very still as Stiles moved his hands from Derek’s jaw to his neck, cupping the sides, adding just enough pressure to his larynx to make Derek’s pulse throb. Then Stiles ran his hands down over Derek’s shoulders to his chest, smoothing over the top of his pectorals, pausing over his sternum, his heart.    
  
Stiles was unusually silent, but it didn’t feel forced. It didn’t feel wrong. Stiles was saying what he needed to say with his hands as they moved over Derek’s body, feeling every inch of exposed skin. Stiles bent to suck at Derek’s neck and then his mouth traced the same path until it settled over one of Derek’s nipples and sucked.  
  
Derek sighed into the gag. He pushed his chest forward, begging for more of Stiles’ mouth. Stiles indulged him, switching to the other nipple to lap at it and then pull at it with his teeth as his fingers toyed at Derek’s sides.  
  
Suddenly Stiles dropped and licked a line up Derek’s abs and the sense memory was so strong that he jerked in his chains, gnashing his teeth over the gag in an infuriated growl. Stiles skittered away, eyes wide and palms up defensively.  
  
“Whoa, okay. You don’t like that. Not doing that again. No licking Derek’s stomach.”  
  
Stiles paused and ran a hand over his hair nervously. He laughed but it was to relieve tension, not to mock. “What, are you ticklish?” he asked.  
  
The sarcasm fell flat because Stiles seemed genuinely worried. Derek could only focus on the panic, how it felt like he’d been punched with a fist wrapped in barbed wire. He wanted to vomit, but the gag wouldn’t let him.  
  
As Derek’s heart rate slowed and his breathing became more controlled, a wave of shame rolled over him. For just one second his composure had been compromised. He didn’t know what he would do if he hurt Stiles, if something else set him off, if he couldn’t rein it back in time. He thought he didn’t want to play this game anymore.  
  
But then he reminded himself that in order to train himself, in order to gain control, he had to test himself. He had to learn his weaknesses, to poke and prod at them until they scarred over, until they were nothing but a dull ache. And Stiles wasn’t his betas, who he’d just barely asserted authority over, who were just beginning to trust him as a leader and family. Stiles wasn’t someone he couldn’t be weak in front of. They’d saved each other’s lives too many times to count.  
  
“Do you want to stop?” Stiles asked, his hands still held up in appeasement. Derek shook his head no. He could do this. He would do this.  
  
Stiles approached slowly, as if Derek were a skittish animal. His fingertips were soft as he stroked them over Derek’s skin. Just Stiles’ proximity and the heat from his body made him feel better. The gentle way Stiles touched him made him feel safe.  
  
He focused on every single way that Stiles was not like Kate. His lips were more animated, thinner but softer, never hiding a murderous sneer. His eyes were wider and darker, like pools Derek could drown in. They were kind, unlike hers, but still sharp.  
  
Stiles’ hands were bigger, his pulse was faster, his muscles leaner and longer. His pelvis was narrower and pressed up against Derek’s body, grinding into Derek with rolling thrusts. His breath was hot against Derek’s ear as they rubbed against each other, Stiles’ teeth nipping over the tendon on his neck. The agonizing slide of Stiles body against Derek’s clothed erection was more pain than pleasure.  
  
Derek pulled his head back reluctantly with a whine that sounded foreign to him, rough and broken as he begged with no words.  
  
Stiles hummed in his throat and his hand quickly found the button of Derek’s jeans, opening them. He slid both the jeans and Derek’s briefs down his thighs, which made Derek huff out his nose in relief. Stiles pushed the pants to the floor and Derek stepped out them when Stiles slipped off his shoes. The cool air hit his overheated skin, and the exposure, the contrast of Stiles being fully clothed and totally in control made him shiver.  
  
Stiles’ eyes glowed, the green light of the train shimmering to make them seem almost yellow, as if he’d been bitten. Derek often thought that Stiles would make a good wolf, that he was clever, daring, just this side of deranged enough to truly be dangerous with fangs.  
  
Stiles tweaked one of Derek’s nipples hard as if to emphasize this point and Derek didn’t whimper, but only because his tongue was pressed up against the gag. The tight grip of Stiles’ hand was agony as he thrust into it. He needed more than just the slide of his foreskin underneath Stiles’ fingers.  
  
Stiles pushed even more into his space, forcing Derek’s body back until he hung by his wrists, balancing on his heels. He wrapped his fingers around the chain to hold himself steady as Stiles kissed along his collar bones.  
  
Then Stiles was gone, leaving a wake of cool air his his place. He’d backed away to grab the other set of cuffs. When he came back, he latched them around Derek’s legs and pulled them tight around the base of the train seats. Derek could barely lift his foot two inches before the chains stopped him.  
  
Stiles stood, sweeping his hands up Derek with his fingers trailing through the hair on Derek’s legs. His face was so close that Derek wanted to push his hips out into it, force Stiles’ mouth against his skin.  
  
He watched how Stiles’ eyes never left his, how his lips were slightly parted and his breathing was heavy. He could feel the heat and wetness of Stiles’ exhale against his skin.  
  
“Okay?” Stiles asked as his hands came to rest on Derek’s hips, palming over the join there: his hip bones and muscles. Derek’s cock twitched at the sound of his voice, the tip of it hitting Stiles’ shirt an answer. Stiles grinned as him. Derek loved the way his eyes narrowed and the shape of his smile. He liked the way Stiles’ thumbs were rubbing slow circles over his skin.  
  
Then Stiles palmed Derek’s cock and Derek sighed out his nose. His hips bucked forward and the chains jangled around his ankles. Stiles’ palm flattened across his stomach to keep him in place as he stroked Derek evenly.  
  
Derek still tried to fuck up into Stiles’ hand, but every time he would get too forceful, Stiles would slow down to a stop. He learned the rhythm that Stiles wanted, let Stiles set the pace. Soon he was pumping Derek faster, until Derek was breathing hard and his orgasm was building behind the base of his cock. His hips were twitching even though he was trying so hard to stay still.  
  
He could feel the pressure, the tightening of his abdomen ready to come over Stiles’ hand and clothes. He could feel it in his throat, in the way his tongue jumped behind the gag and how his breath hitched.  
  
Right when he was on the edge, Stiles completely let go. He backed away quickly as Derek’s hips drove forward, fighting for friction. As the pang of his orgasm subsided, the complete and utter loss of it forced a whine from deep in his chest. He railed against the chains and the bar above him creaked, the bolts straining as he pulled on it.  
  
Stiles was standing wide-eyed before him, but with a devilish smirk as he watched Derek struggle. Derek’s thighs ached and his cock bounced up and down obscenely every time he so much as moved a muscle. He could feel himself leaking, the slow dribble of precome sticking to the underside of his cock.  
  
Once Derek calmed, Stiles approached again. His hands were cool against Derek’s overheated and sweat-slick skin as he palmed over Derek’s ribs. It wasn’t where Derek wanted Stiles to touch him and he glared as hard as he could. Stiles’ mocking smile was infuriating, but his hands were calming as he petted Derek, as he wrapped them around his back, massaging into the muscle there as he pressed his clothed body against Derek’s and sucked a mark on his chest.  
  
Derek could feel spit begin to drool down the sides of his mouth, the gag making it hard to swallow, salivary glands gone into overdrive. He could feel the pressure of his fangs along his gums. They wanted to shred the obstruction, to tear it to pieces. He kept them at bay.  
  
Stiles started a new hickey on his breast. The other had faded already. His fingernails scratched red lines up Derek’s back. Derek could could smell Stiles’ precome in his pants, leaking into the fabric of his boxers. He could hear Stiles’ heartbeat pulsing a little faster.  
  
Stiles then soothed the area with his tongue. He bent over until he was latched onto Derek’s nipple, sucking it to a peak, turning it red and tender. Stiles moved to the other one to do the same, pinching the one he had just left.  
  
When he was finally done and Derek was moaning, when each swipe of tongue felt as harsh as a bite with how sensitive he was, Stiles pressed himself along Derek’s body. His shirt scratched over Derek’s raw nipples and his jeans rubbed over Derek’s cock.    
  
Derek could feel Stiles’ erection in his pants as he rolled his hips, creating a new tempo. Derek met it with a roll of his own hips as well. It hurt to rub along Stiles’ jeans. The fabric was too scratchy and there wasn’t enough pressure. He was still sensitive, but he couldn’t stop himself. Derek needed to come.  
  
Stiles was moaning, mumbling nonsense against his skin, into his neck, on his shoulder as he mouthed there. He had one hand wrapped around the back of Derek’s neck and the other palming Derek’s ass.  
  
“God, yeah. You are so fucking hot. Your fucking face. Your cock,” Stiles was saying.  
  
Stiles emphasized the last one by letting go of Derek’s ass and wrapping his fingers around Derek again. He thumbed over the glans, picking up a little precome and smearing it around the tip of Derek’s dick. His hand moved lower until he was grabbing Derek’s balls. He pulled them down with just enough force to be this side of painful, then he released them and rolled the skin through his fingers, massaging them thoroughly.  
  
Derek snuffed around the gag. He leaned his head back when Stiles released the hold on his neck, closing his eyes, enjoying the way Stiles touched him and how he knew just what Derek liked. Stiles licked his hand and then went to stroke up along Derek’s shaft as he kneaded Derek’s balls. He gradually increased his pace, squeezing just a little tighter when his fist made it to the tip of Derek’s dick. He would pull Derek’s foreskin down and thumb along his frenulum, then let his hand slide back down. Stiles pushed his palm against Derek’s balls and pressed his fingertips to his perineum, holding them there as he worked Derek’s cock, as he increased his speed.  
  
Derek breathed out on every downstroke. He could feel his orgasm building again, could feel how much stronger it was. Stiles pushed harder on his perineum and squeezed until Derek’s hips jerked and he groaned loudly. He could feel the contractions start and, just as he was about to come, Stiles stopped again.  
  
Without the tight hold of Stiles’ fist, his orgasm stalled. Head flung back and howling into the gag, Derek could feel his fangs unleash. He gnashed against the ball, scoring the rubber, feeling it give under the power of his jaw. His muscles were locked and he fought against the restraints. He fought to keep himself in control. It was a two-sided war: the animal unleashing itself in anger and frustration, purely instinctual; the human trying to dominate over that to keep himself in check. He didn’t know if his hair was growing or not, but he knew his eyes were ruby red when he brought his gaze back to Stiles.  
  
Stiles hadn’t backed away as far as he had the last time and that made Derek furious. Stiles was putting himself at risk for a little fun. He growled around the gag in warning when Stiles tried to move closer. Stiles stopped, his expression assessing. Apparently he didn’t find Derek threatening enough though, because he moved right back into Derek’s space, heart jackrabbiting in his chest anyway. Pushing the limits even though he was terrified.  
  
Stiles hands weren’t shaking when he put them back on Derek’s skin, though. He drew them up Derek’s arms until he touched the cuffs. Then he shifted them, looking under them, checking them. Derek’s wrists were raw, but they weren’t bleeding. He’d heal anyway. Satisfied, Stiles swept back down Derek’s upper body.  
  
He didn’t ask if Derek was okay this time. He looked Derek directly in the eyes before leaning in to nuzzle against Derek’s cheek. Stiles rubbed his face into Derek’s neck and shoulder, leaving light kisses. Then he kissed softly down Derek’s chest. When he got to Derek’s stomach, Derek tensed, but Stiles just left a peck above his navel and then dropped to his knees. He mouthed softly along Derek’s hips to the sensitive skin at the base of his cock. Stiles licked there, wetting the hair, pressing his tongue lower near Derek’s scrotum.  
  
“You smell so good,” Stiles said as he breathed against Derek’s groin, as he tongued the base of Derek’s shaft. Derek would smile if he could at the way Stiles sounded like a werewolf, as if he could really appreciate the complexity of a person’s scent.  
  
Derek truly appreciated Stiles’ oral fixation when he licked up Derek’s length, then wrapped his lips around the head of Derek’s cock. He sank down on Derek until he hit the back of his throat, and his tongue pulsed, twirled, fluttered. Stiles’ mouth was a hot vise, tight and convulsing as Stiles swallowed around him.  
  
He could smell the salt of Stiles’ eyes watering already and he wanted nothing more than to palm Stiles’ head, hold him down until he gagged. Derek’s fingers were white over the chains as he held on for dear life. He stopped himself from humping into Stiles’ mouth, fearing that it would make Stiles stop.  
  
Blowjobs were Derek’s favorite thing. Kate never went down on him, not once in all the time they dated. She was always selfish and he hadn’t known until later. It made Derek feel powerful, the way Stiles was so eager to please when he was on his knees. He loved the way Stiles’ lips looked as they stretched around his cock, the way he could feel Stiles breathe through his nose, exhaling against Derek’s pubic hair. He loved the way Stiles’ head bobbed, the way it seemed like Stiles wanted to get as much of Derek in his mouth as he could.  
  
Stiles looked up at him then, creating suction as pulled up until he popped off Derek’s cock. Then he dragged his lips down the underside of it and tongued his way back up when he reached the base. Stiles swirled his tongue over the head and pulled Derek’s foreskin towards the tip, slipping in between the fold to lick there. He placed a kiss to the head of Derek’s cock before sinking down again, sliding his hand down with him.  
  
It had taken a while for Stiles to get really good at this. He’d had the enthusiasm, but not the practice. He hadn’t really experienced an uncut dick before, either. Derek had caught him researching with porn one time, when he’d climbed through his window a few days after the first time they gave each other a mutual handjob.  
  
Derek was Stiles’ first everything: his first kiss, his first handjob, his first fuck. Stiles was Derek’s first everything with a boy. They were on equal footing when it came to giving blowjobs, so they both learned what each other liked, practicing often.  
  
Derek liked getting blown more than Stiles did. Stiles liked kissing more. Stiles liked getting fucked on his knees and Derek liked it better when they were face to face, when he could put his nose to Stiles’ pulse and smell the fresh blood, the life there.  
  
Stiles took Derek all the way down again, until Derek couldn’t fit any farther in his throat. Stiles was staring up at him when a finger suddenly swept over Derek’s asshole. He tensed because he’d lost track of Stiles’ hands while thinking about his mouth.  
  
They hadn’t done this before and a flare of panic overwhelmed Derek for the briefest second. He could feel his eyes go red. Stiles’ gaze was neutral as his tongue continued rolling along Derek’s dick. His finger stayed exactly where it was, not pressing in. Stiles was waiting for permission and Derek grappled with the choice. He was already on edge, already trying to control himself while being chained up. He didn’t know if he could handle the extra stimulation, the added level of discomfort.  
  
But then he thought of the way Stiles looked whenever Derek fingered him, whenever he fucked him: the pure bliss, the way he would gasp when Derek pressed in exactly the right spot, the way his cock would twitch in time to Derek’s thrusts. He’d always wanted to try, but had never known how to ask, or when.  
  
So he nodded and Stiles pulled off his cock with a wet pop. “I have lube in the bag,” he said breathily and he patted Derek’s thighs before crawling over to rummage through his backpack.  
  
“Mmmoyph mmouw,” Derek said and Stiles smiled back, sticking three fingers up in a salute.  
  
“Yes, yes, always prepared,” he replied. “With good reason.” He shuffled back on his knees with a tube of lube in his hand.  
  
“Mmmayph mmmou mmmmrph mmmf,” Derek mumbled. Stiles quirked an eyebrow at him. Derek shook his head up and down once, drawing notice to the gag. Stiles stood and unclasped the harness behind Derek’s head.  
  
“Take your shirt off,” Derek said, now that he could speak properly.  
  
“Are you kidding? It’s cold in here!” Stiles squawked.  
  
“Please,” Derek said, giving his best pleading gaze. Stiles huffed and then pulled at the hem of his shirt, tugging the fabric inside out over his head. Derek watched the way his abs flexed and how his nipples instantly went hard at the cold air.  
  
“Happy?” Stiles said when he tossed the shirt aside.  
  
Derek nodded.  
  
“Do you want this put back on?” He gave the gag a little shake.  
  
Derek bit his lip in indecision.  
  
“Fuck, you can’t do that,” Stiles said before diving in for a kiss. He licked into Derek’s mouth and bit at his lip. Derek ran his tongue along Stiles’ teeth. “So, gag or no?” Stiles asked when he broke the kiss.  
  
Derek shook his head no. He wanted to be able to breathe, to speak, to stop Stiles if he needed to.  
  
“Okay,” Stiles said and he tossed the gag towards the bag. He gave Derek one last filthy kiss before dropping to his knees again. “Spread your legs a little.”  
  
Derek spread his legs obediently and the chains around his ankles went slack, clinking against the metal floor. Stiles popped the top on the lube and squirted a generous amount onto his fingers. He set the tube on the floor and rubbed the slick in circles over his fingertips.  
  
“I thought we were doing this,” Derek said after it had been a minute.  
  
“Shut up. I’m making the lube warm. You’ll thank me,” Stiles said. He took his clean hand and wrapped it around Derek’s dick, which was still achingly hard. He gave a stroke or two before putting his lips to the end and sucking Derek down again.  
  
Derek groaned loudly, much easier without the gag, letting Stiles know exactly how much he appreciated the way Stiles’ tongue felt. Derek watched Stiles’ shoulders move and felt fingers at his entrance again. Stiles circled around his hole, toying with him.  
  
Derek wanted to tell Stiles to _do it already_ , but he didn’t. He was going to keep himself in control and let Stiles do as he wished. The most he would do to encourage was spread his legs a little farther, allow Stiles easier access.  
  
Stiles paused and looked up to Derek in question. He nodded permission and then Stiles pushed his finger inside slowly. It was a completely new sensation, pressure, a slight burn. Derek’s instinct was to clench, but he knew that he should bear down instead. He’d done this to Stiles enough, had done research of his own so that he wouldn’t hurt him the first time.  
  
Derek forced himself to relax and Stiles slid his finger in a little farther. He didn’t move it, not until Derek had gotten used to it, and then he slowly, very slowly started thrusting it in. Derek had never fingered himself before, and the tightness of it burned a little on his sensitive skin there. But he soon became used to it. It didn’t really go away, but it became secondary to the way the tip of Stiles’ finger would push forward, lighting him up inside.  
  
After a few minutes of one finger, Stiles added another. It was harder to get used to the stretch of two, but the pressure was well worth it. Now that Stiles had two fingers in, he had more length, more leverage to work with. He could angle them more easily, thrusting until he the hard gland inside. Derek’s whole body jerked in reaction. The gasp he let out was as if someone had punched him, though the sensation wasn’t that intense. It was a pang of pleasure, but then pressure. The more Stiles fingered over his prostate, the more urgent his need to come became.  
  
With two fingers buried inside of Derek, Stiles started to blow him again. His other hand was braced against Derek’s thigh to hold them both steady, but Derek found he didn’t need it on the base of his dick like he usually would. The pulse of Stiles’ fingers from the inside was enough.  
  
Stiles was relentless and Derek couldn’t keep quiet. His entire body was a tight coil just waiting to snap. Stiles had started moaning around his dick and the vibration added just enough extra sensation to send him over the edge. His muscles contracted in preparation and then Stiles pulled away again.  
  
Derek’s transformation was instantaneous. His claws scraped against the metal of the chains and his fangs shot out as he growled at the ceiling. His body was teetering on the edge of full Alpha form when he looked down at Stiles on his knees, looking up in awe and fear. The beat of Stiles’ heart was loud in Derek’s ears, screaming at him like trapped prey.  
  
He stepped forward only to be stopped by the chains. The bar above him buckled as he pulled on it. He could rip the entire train apart if he wanted to. But then he focused on the way Stiles was backing himself into the corner, the stench of fear wafting off of his body. And that was not what Derek wanted. He wanted to put Stiles in his place, sure. He wanted to fuck him until Stiles passed out. But he didn’t want Stiles to be afraid. He didn't’ want to hurt Stiles.  
  
He stopped pulling on the chains. He stood still as he focused on Stiles’ skin, the pattern of freckles and moles dotting his body. He focused on the pulse in Stiles’ neck, and the way that Stiles licked his lips nervously. That focus reined him in. It allowed him to start shifting back.  
  
His bones went first, snapping, collapsing back into place. Then his hair, then his claws, and finally his teeth. His eyes were still sensitive, still red when Stiles stood up. He didn’t approach until Derek had bowed his head, had taken a few steady breaths and had looked up with clear, human hazel eyes.  
  
“Holy shit,” Stiles huffed out. His fingers did a jittery dance at his sides.  
  
Through all that, Derek’s erection still hadn’t faded. His lungs pulled in air heavily. He was still chained, though with the bars bent, he had far more slack than before. Stiles approached timidly and Derek forced himself into a receptive pose. He didn’t want to seem aggressive, not after fighting all that raw power back down.  
  
“Holy shit,” Stiles said again when he was finally in Derek’s space. His hands were trembling this time when he placed them on Derek’s hips. “You’re bleeding,” he said.  
  
Derek looked up at his wrist where a trickle of bright red blood was snaking down his arm. He shifted his arm but his wrist didn’t feel torn anymore. “I’m fine,” he said. “Already healed.”  
  
Stiles nodded. “Can I kiss you?” he asked.  
  
Derek quirked his head to the side, giving Stiles his best and most judgemental glare.  
  
“Right, yeah,” Stiles said and he stepped up, stopping just before his lips met Derek’s.  
  
“Don’t tease,” Derek whispered and Stiles laughed. Then he dipped his head forward, sealing their mouths together.  
  
Derek fought for it this time, fought his way into Stiles’ mouth, making the kiss filthy. He pushed forward until Stiles’ bare chest was pressed against his and he moaned. He did everything that he could to make Stiles react, to make Stiles need to come as badly as he did. Stiles moaned back and ground his hips against Derek’s. He bit at Derek’s lips and pulled on Derek’s hair.  
  
Too soon he dropped to his knees again, red lips parted and his chest heaving. Stiles wasted no time before he took Derek into his mouth again. His hand searched for the lube on the ground without stopping what he was doing until he found it. He poured some over his fingers and didn’t wait to warm it this time, just slipped two wet fingers back inside of Derek as if they’d never stopped.  
  
Stiles leaned forward as far as he could and gagged on Derek’s cock as his fingers crooked forward. The pressure was agonizing. Derek was immediately as close as he had been before, ready to burst at the barest press of Stiles’ fingers.  
  
“Fuck, Stiles, please,” he said as his cock twitched up in Stiles’ throat, as his balls tightened against his body. “Please, please, please.”  
  
Stiles pulled back and swirled his tongue around Derek’s cockhead. Derek whined and Stiles sank down again, pressed his nose all the way up to Derek’s pubic hair and swallowed. His fingers pushed forward inside of Derek, a steady beat, a rolling pressure against his prostate.  
  
Derek strained against the chains, his muscles tight. The contractions began again, right behind his cock, right where Stiles was touching inside of him. “Please!” he whined. “Stiles, I have to … I have to come. Please.”.  
  
Stiles hummed and nodded and bobbed one more time on Derek’s cock before he sank down again and swallowed. He pushed hard inside of Derek and Derek came. He pulsed hot seman down Stiles throat, the rippling pleasure of his orgasm shooting through his dick. He stomach was shuddering with effort. He was gasping, his chin pressed to his chest as he looked down at Stiles.  
  
Stiles was still sucking him, lapping up every last drop of come. He had one hand pressed up against his tented pants, rubbing at himself frantically. Finally he pulled his fingers out of Derek and let his cock fall from his mouth. His chin was wet with spit and his cheeks were flushed red. He looked fucking gorgeous.  
  
As Derek stood there, still chained up, Stiles hurrying to open his fly. He pulled his dick out and fisted it in his hand, stroking quickly. He spread his knees as far as they could go with his pants wrapped around his thighs. Bracing one hand on Derek’s thigh, he stroked himself until his breath caught and a feral cry ripped from his throat as he spilled himself onto the floor. Stiles shuddered and gasped and stroked himself slower and slower until he couldn’t anymore. Then he looked up at Derek with hooded, sated eyes and a goofy smile.  
  
And the thing that got Derek the most was that moment: that moment of pure bliss, of terribly adolescent adoration and endorphin-induced glee. Kate had never had that look. Even when she came it was like a game, a challenge. She was never satisfied. She was never happy, not with Derek.  
  
Derek pulled his arms down, the bar above him collapsing and the chains falling across his shoulders. They were cold against his skin, but he didn’t care. He knelt down to draw Stiles into his arms, to kiss him, taste himself on Stiles’ lips. He pawed over every inch of Stiles skin and held him to his body.  
  
After a long time of that, Derek’s thighs started to ache from squatting. He thought that Stiles’ knees must be killing him. “Do you have the keys?” he asked.  
  
Stiles’ eyes went wide. “I didn’t see any in the box. I thought you had them,” he said.  
  
Derek couldn’t stop the grimace as he closed his eyes. But after only a second he laughed and couldn’t stop laughing.  
  
“What?!” Stiles demanded, clearly offended.  
  
“I take back every time I’ve ever called you a Boy Scout,” Derek said.  
  
“Oh, shut up!” Stiles said, slapping him on the shoulder. Derek faked being hurt. “Okay, just give me a second. I’ll find them,” he said as he tucked himself back into his jeans.  
  
Derek could have pulled apart the cuffs, but he liked the look of Stiles’ ass as he bent over to dig through the box.


End file.
